


Now or Never: Falling

by Slimslash, without_me



Category: BSB, NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Bootyboys, Fabulous Popstars, Germany, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:32:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slimslash/pseuds/Slimslash, https://archiveofourown.org/users/without_me/pseuds/without_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance and Nick in the Germany days. Second in the "Now or Never" Lance/Nick stories, written in 2003.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now or Never: Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Back to the beginning, from the other side.

Thinking back on it the next day, Lance can't remember how it happened, exactly. That sounds lame, but it's the truth. All he knows is, one minute he was fuming about how _stupid_ Nick Carter was, how completely juvenile and annoying, and the next, he was pressed up against the wall of the Ferris wheel car with the armrest digging into his back, and he was thinking that Nick Carter might be stupid, but he _really_ knew how to kiss. 

Okay, so it's been awhile. Two months now since they came to Germany, and longer than that since he's had any action to speak of at all, and he's seventeen, and yeah, he's horny. But still. Nick Carter? Lance sinks a little lower into the seat of the van and props his knees up on the back of the seat in front of him, and then glances around to make sure Joey's still asleep before touching a careful finger to his own lips. Still sore. And damn, just touching them like that reminds him that yeah, Nick Carter really knows how to kiss. And Lance isn't going to be forgetting about it anytime soon. 

He closes his eyes and leans his head back. They've been arguing ever since they met, and yesterday was no exception. Nick teased him about how excited he got seeing the constellations from the top of the wheel, and Lance retaliated by criticizing Nick's bus school education. After all, Lance is proof that you can learn physics and astronomy with a tutor, if you actually pay attention. Stupid shit, really, but it passed the time, and the Ferris wheel didn't disappoint. The view over Munich was breathtaking, with the Oktoberfest lights spread out below them and the stars up above. 

The second time their car passed the man working the ride and started swooping back up again, Nick said something asinine and Lance turned towards him with a sneer, but before they were halfway up the wheel, Nick's lips were on his and the whole _world_ was spinning. 

Lance thought about pushing him away for, oh, a split second, and then he figured if Nick was teasing, jerking him around, he'd show him a thing or two. He opened his mouth and licked at Nick's lips, and then it was way too late to stop. Nick was taller than Lance, and he leaned over a little so Lance was tilted back, and a second later his big hands came up to hold Lance's shoulders. 

From the way Nick sang, Lance would've guessed that his kisses would be overdone and dramatic, too. Instead, there was a sweetness about the way he used his mouth, something unpracticed and honest that Lance never saw when he was talking, when everything seemed to be calculated to achieve the best result. His mouth was different when you touched it, when it was on yours, Lance thought vaguely. Like, a _lot_ better than when he was talking. 

They broke apart when the wheel spun down, practically throwing themselves to opposite sides of the car as the crowd below came into view, and Lance was a little relieved to see that Nick was breathing as heavily as he was. Nick's lips were wet, and Lance wondered if he looked as turned on as Nick did. They stared at each other, unspeaking, as the car started lifting again, slower this time. And then the ride stopped. Not quite to the top. 

Lance wasn't sure who moved first, or who made that noise, but it only took a second for them to fall back against each other, open-mouthed. 

It was crazy, and it was risky, and it was so fucking hot. They had to be careful; the car was small and Nick was big and it was awfully easy to get the thing rocking, especially with them both on one side like that. Lance didn't _think_ what they were doing was visible from the ground, not in the dark anyway, and he hoped they wouldn't find out. But it was hard not to grapple, not to pull, not to grab for arms and shoulders and Lance thought he might die from the way the stubble on Nick's upper lip scraped against his cheek and mouth, setting his nerves on fire. 

"Fuck, fuck," Nick was breathing. Their hips were jammed together, side by side on the bench, and Lance had never been more grateful for the baggy jeans Lou'd told them all to wear. Lance wasn't sure whether dicks could break, but he really didn't want to test the possibility, and his regular cords would pretty much have guaranteed it. The heavy folds of denim were bad enough, weighing on him as he twisted, rubbing against him almostnotquite hard enough to be in danger of getting him off. 

The wheel jolted a little, then started moving again, and Lance opened his eyes for a moment, seeing smears of light go by, the rush of evening air cool on his damp skin. Then Nick's teeth closed around Lance's upper lip, tugging, and Lance had to focus all his concentration on not melting to the floor. 

Teeth and tongue and slippery soft lips, the slow glide of the car adding to the dizziness filling Lance's head. Down to the bottom, and this time they barely managed to let go of each other, blinking quickly as they sat up straight, leaning apart for the seconds they were sailing close to ground level; their knees still touching, out of sight. 

Then the lights were blurring and he was licking at Nick's mouth again, tasting salt and peppermint. Lance never wanted this to end. Nick was warm, his chest pressing against Lance's, his hands combing through Lance's hair, pulling him closer even though they were already mashed together so hard Lance could barely breathe. Maybe the ride would stop again. Maybe it would break down, the repairman already in bed asleep; or better, drunk and a second one needed, none in town and they'd have to send to the next town over... 

On the other hand, maybe he should be hoping the ride would end. Soon. Very soon. Because the ache in his balls was getting more and more urgent, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his feet facing forward. Keep his hands safely on the cotton of Nick's shirt, not try to peel it up, feel the smooth skin beneath, dip down into the waistband of his jeans and, fuck, now he was thinking about Nick's _ass_ , the soft curves of him, and combined with the way Nick's tongue was sliding over Lance's teeth, teasing the corner of his mouth, Lance's dick was liking this _way_ too much for anything approaching safety or sanity. 

As they approached the bottom once more, the wheel creaked to a stop about 20 feet from the ground, and Lance's groan was part frustration, part relief. He pushed away from Nick and shifted carefully across to the other end of the bench. "Shit," he whispered, dragging his shirttail out from his waistband and yanking it down over his hips. He wiped his sweaty palms down his thighs and willed his erection to go away. 

He stole a glance at Nick, sprawling next to him. Nick's loose jeans hid anything that might have been going on between his legs, but his lips looked swollen. His hair was mussed, too, and Lance unconsciously raised a hand to his own head. Before he could touch it, Nick smirked. "Leave it, man, it could only be an improvement." 

"What the _fuck_ , Carter?" Lance snapped, dragging nervous fingers through his hair. The car dropped closer to the platform at the base of the wheel. They'd have to get out in a second, and Lance was still in no condition to walk away at all comfortably. 

Nick licked his lips and grinned wider. "You kiss your mama with that mouth, Bass?" 

"You... don't you... damn it, Nick, just shut up!" Lance glared at Nick. 

A moment later, their car swung down to the platform. As the ride attendant opened the door, Lance shot Nick a look he hoped was withering, and then concentrated on stepping out rather than falling out. Nick, he noticed with some satisfaction a moment later, also seemed to be walking more carefully than usual. 

Now, almost twenty-four hours later, it seems like a dream. Whether it was a wet dream or a nightmare, Lance isn't sure, but one thing he _is_ sure of is that Nick Carter can really kiss. 

And that he's never, ever going to do that again. 

*** 

A couple of months later, Lou's got them scheduled at yet another whatever-it-is show, every band under the sun and a few that haven't crawled out from under rocks yet and, if the world is lucky, never will. Backstreet's above them on the bill, of course, and Lance has spent a long time coming up with the perfect insulting remark about Nick's hair. He had the whole drive to Dortmund to rehearse, and he's just waiting for the chance to deliver it and watch that smug face turn red. 

Of course, when he finally does see Nick, backstage, he's rushing to get to 'Nsync's soundcheck, and he blurts out the words too fast, jumbling them so all he's left with as he takes his place on the pock-marked stage is the memory of Nick's laughter echoing in the hallway. _Fuck._ It takes him half a verse to find the beat, and while Johnny doesn't say anything as they exit back toward the dressing rooms, Lance knows from his expression he's not happy. "Sorry," Lance murmurs as he passes, forcing himself to stop and face Johnny head-on. "I'll do better when we're on." 

"Just do your best, Lance," Johnny says, and that's even worse, in a way, than being yelled at. Lance nods quickly, then trots down the hall to catch up with the guys. 

Backstreet should be soundchecking next; Nick should be safely busy, but somehow Lance turns the corner and there he is, big and blond and obnoxious as ever. 

"Lance," Nick whispers, quiet as a train. "C'mere." 

Lance stops to look at him, more out of bewilderment than anything else. "What the fuck?" 

"C'mere," Nick repeats, beckoning now, gesturing toward a nearby door. "Check it out." 

"What? I've gotta go--" 

"Gotta go practice?" Nick says mockingly, and Lance grits his teeth. 

"What do you want?" He considers walking away, but ends up stepping closer. He's not sure why. Then Nick's hand is on his arm, and the door's opening, and Nick's pulling him along, pushing him in front of Nick into-- 

"A storage closet?" Lance asks, coming up short against a shelf dotted with used paint cans as he hears the door click closed behind Nick. "Why--" 

"Well," Nick says, that high, light voice that always sounds so funny, at least when it's more than an inch away from Lance's face, "you weren't exactly doing much to make the world a better place on that stage." Lance shoves at him like he wants to get past, but Nick just laughs, holding him in place. "So I thought, y'know, there is _one_ thing I know you're good at." 

Lance wants to spit the gibe back at him, but Nick's lips are against his and the words won't come out. Instead, he hears himself gasp, the soft sound clear in the small space, and then Nick's tongue is in his mouth and damn, damn, Nick tastes like cinnamon this time, hot and sweet, and his body is strong and tall against Lance's, and Lance closes his eyes, turns his mind off and kisses back. 

Nick's hands tighten on Lance's arms when Lance leans into him, pressing their chests together as they kiss. Nick's tongue against his shouldn't feel this good, it really shouldn't, but _should_ doesn't seem to matter anymore, so Lance lets it go. It's familiar now, the feel of Nick's mouth, the way it makes his pulse pound and his breath short. He locks his knees to keep from falling. 

The dark little room is barely big enough for two, and when people walk by in the hall, Lance can hear their footsteps as clearly as if the door were open. His backbone stiffens as two people stop right outside for a few moments, speaking German, and he pulls away from Nick, just far enough to search out his eyes in the darkness. "If they open that door, I'm gonna kill you," he whispers fervently, poking Nick on the shoulder to make it more convincing. 

He can barely see Nick's grin, but he feels it against his cheekbone as Nick murmurs, "Don't worry, if they open that door, Lou'll kill us both." Then Nick is licking Lance's ear. "You can leave anytime you want, Bass." But his hands slide down Lance's body as he takes Lance's earlobe between his teeth, and Lance knows he's not going anywhere. He shivers as Nick's fingers slip around his sides, right above his belt, and then smooth their way up his back. 

It's just. It's so much. Sensation, excitement, fear. The threat of discovery. Nick's hands moving over him, his mouth, it's too much. And it's all Lance can do to keep himself from pushing his hips forward, but he has to, has to keep that much control at least, because then Nick would feel, would _know_ that Lance is hard. So hard, so fast, and that _can't_ be cool. 

Unless, of course, Nick's hard too. 

Lance is just working up the courage to let his hands fall below Nick's waist and find out when there's a shout in the hallway. "Nick! Where are you? Two minutes!" It's AJ, Lance thinks, and Nick jumps away so fast that he almost bumps his head against the door. 

"Shit. Shit." Nick's the one trying to straighten up his hair this time, and Lance smirks a little to hear him swearing in the dark. 

"Think you'll be able to dance, man?" Lance teases, leaning back against the shelves behind him. 

"Still better than you on a good day," Nick retorts as he reaches for the doorknob. "You might wanna, you know. Wait a minute." 

"No shit, Sherlock," Lance mutters as Nick pulls the door open and slips out into the hall. 

When it's dark again, and he's alone, Lance takes a deep breath. God. What the hell is he doing? He presses the heel of his hand down hard on his dick, and tries not to think about Nick. Stupid Nick, with his immature sense of humor and his total disregard for what other people want. So stupid with his blue eyes and his big hands and his tongue that doesn't know how to stay in his own mouth. 

He's not gonna think about it. He's not. 

A minute or so later, he eases the door open and peeks out into the thankfully empty hall. He can hear "Get Down" coming from the stage, so he knows Nick's really in soundcheck. He breathes a sigh of relief as he blinks his way into the light and heads for the dressing rooms. 

*** 

February in Germany is miserable. Damp and gray and cold and foggy and did he mention damp? The hotel rooms never seem to heat up all the way, and the venues are worse--except when they're packed with people, and then the body heat combined with the dampness makes it like singing and dancing in a jungle. They all have chronic sniffles, but in Bremen Joey gets a fever, and then JC gets it too, and after he nearly passes out on stage one night, Johnny takes them both off to the doctor the next day. 

Flu, is the verdict. Flu, and if they're not careful it could turn into bronchitis--Joey's coughing a little already, and they know Chris is sick when he doesn't crack a single joke all day. They still do their appearances, of course, but when they check in at the hotel in Hamburg that night, Johnny stops them in the lobby. "Backstreet's staying here too, guys, and Howie and Brian are also sick, so we're doing a little shuffling, trying to keep this from spreading to everyone." 

Johnny continues talking as he hands out keys. "JC, you and Joey are together, and you're next to me, so if you're feeling worse overnight, just knock on my door." JC nods dully and starts trudging toward the stairs with his bag. "Chris, you've got the single; get some rest." 

It's about the time Johnny turns to him and says "Lance," that the light bulb goes on. And then he only has time for a very brief prayer--so brief he's not even sure what he's praying for, just _Please, God, don't_ \--and then sure enough, the next words are, "we're putting you with Nick." 

Lance opens his mouth. Shuts it. Swallows. Takes the key from Johnny's hand and hopes--now he's praying for real--that he's not blushing as red as Justin's new Pumas. He can't say anything. _Please, could I sleep in the hallway? Or on Lynn and Justin's floor? Because I'm afraid if I'm in a room with Nick, I might... we might..._ Yeah, right. When his mom went back home this time he'd been glad for the extra privacy, but right this minute, he'd give a lot for his biggest concern to be her checking to make sure he'd brushed long enough. 

He shoulders his backpack and heads upstairs. Johnny didn't say if Backstreet was in yet, so he hopes maybe he'll have a minute or two alone in the room, to try to figure out what in the world to do. 

But no, he really can't buy a break today, because when he opens the door the first thing he sees is Nick. Nick's long, lanky body, sprawled across the bed nearer the door, so much of him that the bed underneath's almost invisible. Nick, propped up on pillows--all the pillows, Lance realizes, from both beds--reading a comic book and glancing up as Lance stands in the doorway. "You gonna come in or you just lookin'?" he finally asks, and Lance makes his feet work again, steps inside and closes the door behind him. 

"Did you set this up?" Lance demands. "Did you--you--I don't want to room with you." Angry is better than scared, he thinks. 

Nick stares at him a moment, then rolls his eyes and goes back to his comic. "Yeah, right. Like I really want to room with _you_." 

Lance is knocked a little off balance by that. Last time, Nick seemed pretty glad to see him. He feels himself flush as he remembers how JC looked at him when he finally got to the dressing room in Dortmund, raising an eyebrow and then saying, "Well, _someone_ won't need rouge today." To cover it up, he forces himself across the room and drops his bag at the end of his bed. "Whatever, pervert," he mumbles, and pulls out his shaving kit to go brush his teeth and wash his face. It's late already, and he tells himself that what he really wants to do is sleep. He's not thinking about turning off the lights and lying here in the dark with Nick four feet away. He's not. 

When he comes back down the hall from the bathroom, Nick hasn't moved. Lance stands between the two beds, looking down at him. "I'm. Uh. I'm gonna need a pillow," Lance says, wondering if that'll be enough to make Nick do something, anything. But Nick just keeps reading as he pulls a pillow out from under his head and hands it to Lance without looking at him or saying a word. 

Lance makes a big production of turning down his blankets and situating the pillow exactly right. Then he glances at Nick from under his eyelashes and pulls his shirt off over his head. Normally he'd sleep in his sweatpants, but he can't believe the way Nick's ignoring him so he pulls them off too and then climbs into bed wearing only his briefs. Great. Now he's shivering, and Nick _still_ didn't look. 

Lance turns over, facing away from the light, and fumes. Fuckin' Nick. Acting like they've never--whatever. Lance squeezes his eyes closed, but there's no way he's going to be able to sleep now. His pillow smells like Nick, and that makes him even madder. Nick acts like, God, like it was _Lance_ who wanted it the other times. Like it wasn't Nick who started the whole thing! And it's not even like Lance wanted them to be, well, _boyfriends_ , or whatever, but just to ignore him? That's so wrong. 

He hears Nick moving around behind him and rolls onto his back so he can see what's going on. Nick stands between the beds and pulls off his shirt, but he leaves his undershirt on. He's not looking at Lance. Then he slides his jeans down and kicks them off. His legs are long and skinny, sticking out of his boxers, and they're dusted with golden brown hair. Lance closes his eyes to stop himself looking. And for some reason that's what hits home for him. He's looking at Nick's bony legs and _wanting_. 

This isn't all about Nick doing stuff to him. And it's not just about a convenient body to make out with once in a while, either. God. Lance wants him. Maybe not as a boyfriend, okay, but. Nick. He wants Nick. 

Nick doesn't seem to notice Lance's revelation. He slides into his bed and reaches for the lamp. "Night," he says, and turns off the light. 

_That's it?_ Lance frowns in the dark, and this time he has to admit that what he's feeling is disappointment. Jesus. They've got a room to themselves, and all night to use it, and all Nick can do is turn off the light? 

Lance thinks for a second about getting up and going over there. Sitting on the edge of Nick's bed, maybe, or just pushing him over and lying down next to him. Lance's dick jumps when he thinks about it, and he bites his lip. Or, no. Maybe he could do something to get Nick to come over to him. But Nick's being quiet, and Lance doesn't know him well enough to be able to tell if that means he's really falling asleep or not. Maybe Nick really doesn't like him. Doesn't think he was that great a kisser or whatever, even though he did say last time that Lance was good at it. He could've been teasing. 

Or. Maybe Nick's with someone else, now. Maybe he's with Howie or Brian, but they're sick, so he's not allowed to room with them. Maybe that's why he's not interested. 

Lance stares up at the darkness for a minute. Takes a breath, then another, trying to relax, trying not to think so hard. When he hears the words, hanging loud in the silent room, it takes him a second to realize they came out of his own mouth. "So, you ever been with a guy?" 

The silence echoes, and Lance holds his breath. Maybe. Maybe Nick's asleep already. 

Then there's a chuckle from the darkness a few feet away. " _Been_ with a guy?" Nick makes Lance's words sound so stupid. "You mean, like, all the way?" 

All the way. Is that what he meant? He didn't mean to say it at all, is what he meant. "Of course," he says, trying to sound casual. 

"Huh," Nick says, and for a second Lance thinks that's it, he's not going to answer. Then, "Yeah. Of course." Then, "What about you?" Which is the obvious next question, and Lance should have been expecting it, but again, he's not really sure how he got into this in the first place, so no, he's not ready, not ready at all. 

Lance feels the blush spread from his face down his throat and gives thanks for the darkness. By any definition, it would be a stretch to call what he's done _all the way_. But he knows what answer he's giving Nick. He turns on his side, propping himself up on one elbow. "Duh, yeah." He's _so_ going to hell for lying, but he's not going to give Nick the satisfaction of thinking Lance is a virgin. He's almost a year older than Nick, for heaven's sake. 

"You don't sound so sure about it." 

Damn. He'd hoped he'd been convincing. "Like you do," he fires back. 

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Nick continues in that infuriatingly patronizing tone. "Just because you haven't had that much experience..." 

It's true, and he can't let on that it's true, and he certainly can't let on how his body's responding simply to _talking_ about it. "You tell yourself whatever makes you feel better, kid." He feels pretty good about that last shot. 

Sure enough, Nick sits up. "'Kid.' Oh, please. Give me a fucking break. At least I've been away from home more than two weeks. I bet you've never even had another guy's hand on your dick." 

A spark of hope flares in Lance's chest, that image--a guy's hand, _Nick's_ hand--flashing through his body like lightning. He stretches out again, and tries not to sound too breathless, too eager. "Whatever." 

He hears Nick's covers being thrown back and the next instant there's a weight on his bed, a body pressing against his side as Nick balances himself on the narrow mattress. Yes. _Yes_. Lance tries not to gasp when Nick plants a hand next to his shoulder, when Nick's breath comes hot against his face. "You talk a good game, Bass. Can you back that up with action?" 

Oh, God. Lance's heart hammers against his ribs. It's too much; he thinks he might explode. The idea, the setting. The two of them. The room. All night, all alone. He can feel warmth radiating off Nick, all the way down the length of the bed. It's overwhelming, and it's terrifying, and Lance knows if he chickens out now he'll never live it down. 

He can't think of any possible answer, so he takes a deep breath and lifts his head, only a little clumsy as he tries to find Nick's mouth in the darkness. Nick giggles, just for a second, as Lance's tongue slides over the corner of his mouth, and then they're kissing, hot and wet and fuck, so good. 

Nick's skinny, but he's so tall that there's barely room on the mattress for both of them. His belly is right up against Lance's hip, and as the kiss deepens and Lance shifts, tilting up, pulling Nick closer, Lance realizes he can feel Nick's dick, bumping against him. Nick's hard dick. Even through the blankets, there's no question what it is. 

Nick wants him. Nick wants to have sex... with him. Lance's head is spinning, partly from the kiss and partly because--Jesus--it's just the two of them, nobody's going to be interrupting, and they could do anything, anything. Everything. It's the most exciting thing ever, and Lance is so scared he thinks he might piss himself. 

Except, of course, he's hard as nails and he couldn't piss right now if someone was holding a gun to his head. 

Nick growls, hips shifting, his tongue licking at Lance's lips. Nick's hand touches Lance's shoulder, palm warm on bare skin, and Lance shivers, feeling heat course through his body. He's never done this before. Never been touched like this, almost naked, in a bed. Somehow it feels totally different than the back seat of someone's car, parked out by the lake. Nick's fingertips are slightly rough, and Lance feels like they're leaving tracks on his skin, branding him. 

Nick rocks against him, and Lance holds his breath a second as he realizes he's doing the same thing. Hips moving without conscious thought, nothing more than _want_. Need. Nick's not laughing, though, so Lance doesn't think about how he's humping Nick's thigh, just drags his teeth down Nick's lower lip, over his chin. Nick makes a choked sound but his head goes back, throat bare, and Lance keeps going, biting his way further down, pushing past the neck of his T-shirt. Nick's collarbone is sweet, made for licking, and from the way Nick is reacting, he likes that a lot. 

Nick's hands are all over him, kneading his shoulders, tangling in his hair. Then Nick slides a hand between them and the pad of one thumb skates over Lance's nipple. Lance gasps, teeth coming together on Nick's skin. 

"Fuck," Nick groans, arching his back and shivering against Lance, so Lance bites him again, then slicks the spot with his tongue. Nick's skin is smooth against his lips, hot on his tongue. Lance licks a little lower, and gets a mouthful of cotton. 

"C'mon," he grits out, pulling back a little and reaching for the hem of Nick's tee. "Take this off." He almost expects Nick to laugh, to push him away, but Nick's eyes are dark when he looks at Lance, and he sits back up and pulls the shirt off over his head, fast. His skin is pale and soft-looking in the dim light from the window, and Lance can see goosebumps rising when the cool air hits Nick's body. It makes Lance want to touch, to taste. 

Lance shifts over as much as he can and picks up the edge of his covers. "Um. It's, uh, it's too cold out there." That has to be the lamest line ever, he thinks, but makes himself continue. "You better, um..." 

"Yeah," Nick says, and slips under the blankets. 

Lance gasps aloud as Nick presses against him. Nick's skin is cool where the air's chilled it, but it's heating fast now that they're under the covers together, the full lengths of their bodies rubbing. It's the sexiest thing Lance has ever felt--all that heat, Nick's dick poking at him through their underwear. Nick puts a hand on Lance's stomach and slides it slowly over his waist to his back, then pulls them closer together. It feels so damn good, and Lance isn't surprised when he starts to quiver. Shit. _Shit._ If he comes right now he will never, ever forgive himself. He takes a deep breath and digs his fingernails into the back of his thigh, hoping to distract his body from the incredible feeling of Nick against him. He's concentrating so hard on not coming that he's almost surprised when Nick whispers, "This what you wanted?" 

The half-mocking tone in Nick's voice seems to break the spell, and suddenly Lance isn't worried about coming anymore. He reaches out to pull Nick's face to his, and when their lips meet in a hard kiss he snakes his hand around to bury his fingers in Nick's hair. It's shorter than it was in December, but it's still long enough, and Lance tangles his fingers in the silky strands as he kisses Nick with everything he's got. Lips, teeth, tongue, and Nick's making a noise like a growl in his throat and kissing him back, just as hard. Down below, Nick's holding them close together, strong arms wrapped around Lance's body, and Lance sees sparks behind his eyelids when their dicks nudge each other through the cotton. 

God. It's so hot. Too hot. One hand still twisted in Nick's hair, Lance pulls back from Nick's mouth and kisses his way down over his smooth chin. Nick whimpers when Lance uses his teeth, throws his head back, and Lance likes that. He nips gently down Nick's neck, and when he reaches the place where Nick's shoulder starts, Nick bucks his hips forward and moans "Fuck, yeah." 

Yes. That's what Lance wants to hear. Nick, wanting. Needing. Needing _him_. Lance bites again, a little harder, then licks, grinning against Nick's skin when Nick gasps and arches, hips working, breath coming in harsh pants that ruffle Lance's hair. 

"Jesus," Nick gasps. "Oh, fuck, Lance." Lance slides his teeth over Nick's skin and muscle, his free hand stroking down Nick's side. Nick's belly is smooth and tight under his touch, and Lance's hand is right _there_ , all he'd need to do is reach a few inches lower, wrap his fingers around... 

He wants to. God, he wants to. Wants to feel that, wants to feel Nick hard and hot, wants to squeeze and feel the reaction ripple through Nick's body. But he's afraid, too. What if Nick stops him. What if--God, what if he does something wrong? Not everybody likes the same stuff, right? So far everything's okay--it's _great_ \--but he doesn't want to screw it up. 

Then Nick groans, pulling away from Lance's mouth, and for a second Lance thinks he's screwed it up anyway. But Nick hauls Lance up against him, fitting their mouths together, kissing him hot and wet and deep while Nick's hips pump against him. 

It feels so good. Every shift of Nick's cock strikes sparks through Lance's body, and all he can do is try to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. Nick bites Lance's lower lip, sucks Lance's tongue into his mouth, and Lance feels himself losing control. His own hips jolt forward, his right leg wrapping around Nick's thigh, not even sure what it is he wants except _more_. 

Nick laughs, then, grinning when Lance blinks and tries to focus on his face. "You like that," Nick purrs, shifting his hips, and saying no would be a bigger lie than anything else Lance has said tonight. "You want me to keep doin' that?" 

Lance can't help it; he moans, biting his lip. Trying not to say yes, trying not to nod as desperately as his body's crying out for him to do. 

"I bet you'd let me do anything," Nick whispers. "Anything." And he's right, Lance knows he's right. Nick's hand slides down Lance's back, cupping his butt, squeezing, and Lance's heart stops for a second but his legs spread wider. 

"Who's the kid now?" Nick breathes, and Lance wants to deny it, but if he says the wrong thing Nick might stop, and that's not even an option, so he closes his eyes tight and tries to keep from coming. _Just another few seconds, please, God._ He closes his teeth on Nick's chin, and yeah, that gets a hiss and now it's not only him making those desperate noises. Nick tilts his head back a little, and Lance finds a soft spot under his jaw and sucks, hard, not even sure what he's fighting for, only knowing he has to win. 

"Fuck, fuck," Nick's moaning, and his body's shuddering, grinding hard into Lance, and when Lance feels the wet heat soaking through Nick's boxers, smearing on his belly, it only takes another heartbeat and he's coming too, nearly sobbing with relief as the tension gives way to blinding jolts of sensation. 

His mouth is still against Nick's neck, and as the pleasure shocks through him Lance starts sucking again, that same spot, to keep from groaning loud enough to carry through the hotel wall. _Shit_. Nick's stopped squirming and he's panting against Lance now, making quiet little noises in his throat. A moment later he stills, body sagging, pushing Lance back on the bed and falling half on top of him. Lance grabs for the side of the narrow mattress to make sure he's not about to fall off, but--to Lance's surprise--Nick's still got his arms around him and he's not letting go. 

_Now what_ , Lance thinks. He didn't know, he didn't expect... well, he's done stuff before, but God. Nothing like _this_. All this privacy, being able to kiss and touch and... everything. All in the dark, all without worrying about the cops pulling up and shining a flashlight in the window. Without having to stop. Lance's briefs are soaked, slippery against his skin, and he can feel Nick's wetness against his belly too. Lance feels himself blushing hot at the thought. 

Nick stays where he collapsed, catching his breath, and Lance thinks he can almost feel Nick's heart beating against his chest. His thoughts are whirling, and the room suddenly seems tilted, and Lance wonders idly when his brain's going to start working again. 

Then Nick takes a deep breath and pushes himself up, props himself up on his elbow, and looks down into Lance's face. His expression is somewhere between a smile and a smirk. Lance knows he's still flushed, but he hopes it's dark enough in the room that Nick won't notice, or if he does, at least maybe he'll think it's from the sex... 

"Not bad, Bass," Nick says, and Lance doesn't know whether to be relieved or insulted. But before he has time to think about it too much, Nick dips his head and kisses him again. 

He's not sure why it feels different now. More intimate. Like... maybe not like boyfriends, but like _something_ , he thinks. Something grown-up. He tilts his head and kisses back, licking deep into Nick's mouth; then, trying not to second-guess himself, he nudges Nick up, just far enough that he can tug his own sticky briefs down and off, then scrub them over his skin, trying to clean up as much as he can. "You gonna keep yours on?" he asks, hoping he sounds casual, and Nick blinks, once, then shrugs and follows suit, dropping his boxers onto the floor. 

It's totally the sensible thing to do. Totally less gross than leaving them on. Still, Lance gasps in shock when Nick turns back toward him, the heat of his body no longer interrupted by fabric. Nothing but skin and more skin. Lance can feel Nick's cock, now, feel it shift with Nick's movements, feel the soft scratch of hair against his hipbone, and it's completely different than it was before. Lance kisses Nick almost desperately, needing something to distract him from the dizzying newness of being _completely naked_ with someone. 

After the first moment of panic, their kisses slow, change into something... Lance doesn't know what the word is. Sensual? Maybe. They kiss for a long time, lying there, barely moving, their skin slowly dampening with sweat where they're fitted together. Lance can feel himself hardening, and he can feel it when Nick's cock starts to fill, too, going from soft flesh to a nudge at his thigh. It feels so good. So good. Lance doesn't know what's going to happen-- _You'd let me do anything_ , he hears again in his head--but he doesn't care. It all feels right, and he's not going to worry. 

Their hands have been quiet, arms around each other as they kiss. As Nick's erection gets more and more obvious, though, Lance can't help wondering. Taking a breath, he worries Nick's lip between his teeth and slides his hand lower, down Nick's back to the gentle curve of his ass, then around to the front. Slowly, so Nick can say something if he doesn't want it. 

Though really, that's a pretty unlikely thing to worry about, isn't it? Nick may be kinda dumb, but he's not _that_ stupid. Sure enough, Nick makes a soft noise in his throat and shifts over just far enough so Lance can slide a hand between them. 

Nick's skin is hot where they've been pressed together. Lance's fingertips tingle as he strokes further, through the soft hair at the base of--Jesus--Nick's cock. Nick's cock, under his fingers. Hard, the skin soft and silky, like his own, but this isn't his own, he's touching a cock and it's not his and that's enough to take his breath away. 

It twitches when Lance touches it, and Nick whimpers, and Lance's whole body flushes with heat. He strokes gently with his fingertips, and Nick's hands tighten on his waist. Lance watches Nick's face as he moves his hand, and it's _wow_ , amazing. Nick's mouth opens and his eyes shut and he pants audibly as Lance slides his fingers all the way around the shaft. It's hot against his palm, and Lance is hard too, aching hard from touching Nick like this, from watching him respond. 

Nick's hips push forward a little and Lance closes his hand tighter, almost a fist now. As he drags it slowly up the length of Nick's erection, Nick makes a desperate sound, thin and quavering. Lance knows Nick must be dying for him to move faster, but he doesn't ask, he doesn't beg. Lance wishes he would. When his fingers bump up below the head at last, Lance takes his thumb and rubs it over the tip, slick and wet, and now Nick does gasp out a ragged, "Please." 

_He really wants this_ , Lance thinks, _wants me_. The surge of power and desire goes right to his dick, already hard and throbbing, and Lance starts to move his hand in earnest. 

It goes pretty fast, really. Lance hardly has time to wonder if he's doing it hard enough, or too hard maybe, before Nick is starting to push forward on his downstrokes and jerk his hips back when Lance pulls up. Nick's making these noises, what Lance imagines porn must sound like, and Lance knows it's the sexiest thing he's ever heard. Wanting more, Lance leans down to kiss Nick's shoulder, and he feels Nick's shiver against his whole body. So he kisses Nick again, licks at the base of his throat and tastes sweat, and then without even thinking he brings his teeth together on Nick's skin. 

Nick gasps sharply, and Lance feels Nick's dick pulsing in his fist, growing even thicker for just a second before he slams his hips forward and shoots, on himself, on Lance. It's so exciting to feel it happen, feel it hot against his fingers and stomach, that Lance doesn't even worry about how gross they're both gonna be. Nick shudders as he comes, his hips jerking forward again and again, his whole body shaking, and Lance hangs on tight and prays that Nick's gonna return the favor. 

Finally, Nick's just panting, his body stilled against Lance, his eyes closed. Lance feels Nick's hot breath against his mouth and leans forward for a kiss. He's aching, he's so hard he thinks if he doesn't get off soon he might be permanently damaged, and he really, really doesn't want Nick to go to sleep. But Nick kisses back, moaning into Lance's mouth. 

"Damn," Nick breathes, and Lance grins. Maybe he doesn't have a lot of experience, but he got it right, didn't he? Nick's not complaining. Lance licks at Nick's lips again, and maybe Nick just needs a little encouragement, huh? So Lance shifts his hips, rocking forward--and, Jesus, that little bit of friction is almost enough to get him off; maybe he doesn't need Nick to do anything after all. He hears himself groan softly, and his hips don't want to stop moving and he doesn't really see any reason to argue with them. 

But then Nick's moving too, picking himself up a little, shaking his head like he's trying to get it working better--good luck with that, Lance thinks dizzily. "Sorry," Nick murmurs. "I guess you--I should--" Lance isn't going to argue with that, that's for sure. He doesn't say anything, doesn't know what you're supposed to say, but he figures his expression is pretty clear. 

Nick stays where he is another second, looking at Lance, and Lance starts to wonder, is he doing something wrong? He doesn't have time to think about that, though, because Nick's hand is sliding over his belly, and now Nick's fingers--those big hands, fuck yeah--are wrapping around him, and oh God, this is the best thing ever. Lance sucks in air, feeling sparks prickling his skin, and he lies back, trying to keep his breathing under control. Trying to memorize everything about this, how it feels, the way Nick's thumb drags down his length, the way the heel of Nick's hand presses on the base of his cock. And trying to make it last more than five seconds. 

"You like that?" Nick purrs, and Lance blinks, trying to focus his vision--even though it's really obvious that question doesn't need to be answered. Nick's looking down at him, and there's something in his eyes that Lance can't name. It's an expression he's never seen on Nick before, that's for sure. Nick strokes up, his hand slippery with his own mess, and Lance knows he's got to be leaking, too, as the pleasure jolts through him. 

When Nick moves, shifting his weight, the bed listing as he bends and ducks down under the covers, Lance doesn't even know what he's doing at first. And then--Jesus--and then Nick's tongue, Nick's _tongue_ , a soft lick at the head of Lance's cock and Lance's eyes open wide, staring helplessly up into the darkness. He can't breathe. He can't think. Nick's tongue. Nick's mouth. It's not like Lance has never heard of blowjobs before, but this... 

So hot. Nick's lips, wet and slick, almost a kiss--then opening, sliding down, and Lance has his fingers knotted in the sheet so hard he thinks something's going to tear. "Oh God, oh God," he's saying, whimpering probably, but Nick can't hear him, _because Nick's down there_ , because Nick's mouth is... Nick's mouth... 

He doesn't want to miss a second of this, it feels so good, but it's impossible to concentrate--it's hard enough to keep _breathing_ \--and besides, it's like Nick's mouth is everywhere at once. Soft lips and tongue slipping over the tip of his dick, then that wet mouth sliding slowly down the shaft, then--God, God--Nick's fingers stroking his balls. Lance's legs spread, practically on their own, he doesn't have any control and he doesn't know if he wants to find any. Nick's tongue is pressing what seems like _everywhere_ , tracing a circle around the crown, and when Nick starts sucking Lance knows he's not gonna last much longer. 

Nick's lips are halfway down Lance's cock now and he's sucking hard, and Lance feels like the top of his head is in danger of exploding with every pull. Lance is squirming, and he's not going to last, he's _not_ , and he makes himself let go of the sheets with one hand so he can try to warn Nick before he shoots. Instead, he finds his fingers tangling in Nick's hair, damp silk clinging to his skin, and when Nick sucks one more time Lance can't really do anything but try to tell him--"I'm... oh, fuck!"--and then he's coming, one hand caught in Nick's hair, the other flying up to cover his own mouth so he won't yell and wake up the whole hotel. 

Nick pulls off pretty quick when Lance starts to spurt, but he's still under the covers and his hand is on Lance's dick now, pumping. Lance's hips buck up and he strains against Nick's hand, and he comes so hard that the whole room goes white for a second. 

When he becomes aware of the world again, Nick's lying beside him, propped on one elbow, his face shiny with sweat and Lance's... oh, God. Lance reaches out, his fingers still shaking, and wipes Nick's wet cheek with the corner of the blanket. Nick stares at him, then his lips curve and he catches Lance's hand and says, "Thanks." Lance just nods, because he's a little scared that if he tries to talk he'll start thanking Nick in return, and he might not be able to stop, he feels so good. He's got an excuse for not speaking, though, since he's still panting, trying to catch his breath. He puts his head back down on the pillow and closes his eyes, so he doesn't have to meet Nick's look, but leaves their fingers twined together. 

Nick shifts a few moments later, and as the covers move with him Lance realizes that his bed is really, really messy. Like, gross messy. He picks up the edge of the covers and looks underneath, not that he can really see anything, and Nick laughs. "Oh, man," Lance groans, and his voice feels creaky and unused. "I can't sleep in this." 

Nick bites his lip. "Uh, yeah. It's pretty bad." He glances over his shoulder at the other bed. His bed. "I guess, um. If you wouldn't steal all the blankets. You could, like, come over to mine." He looks up at Lance through his eyelashes. "You wanna?" 

Lance swallows, nods. To sleep with Nick. That seems. Wow. Before he can finish the thought, Nick flops off the bed and clambers over to his own. Lance catches a glimpse of Nick's ass, pale in the darkness, and even though he just came--twice--his dick twitches in response. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut for a second. He can't--they can't. At least, he doesn't think they can. After a moment he's in control again, and he pushes aside the sticky sheets, grabs his pillow, and follows Nick. The room is cold, so he dives under Nick's blanket before he can start to shiver. 

It takes them a minute to find a comfortable position. Lance has shared with JC now and then, and Chris too, but never in a bed this small, and certainly never like this. Naked. After having sex. He's totally exhausted now, but it's still exciting to have all that hot, smooth skin right next to his. The German beds are even shorter and narrower than his twin bed back home, and it's pretty much impossible for them to lie back to back, what with Nick's long legs and how he has to fold them up. Finally they settle, Nick on his side, Lance right behind him. Not exactly spooned together, but close enough that Lance can feel Nick's body heat all along his front. Close enough that Nick'll feel it if Lance _does_ get hard again. He closes his eyes and tries to figure out where to put his arms, and thinks that it's gonna be a long night. 

That turns out to be his last thought until morning. Nick's body quickly relaxes into sleep, and his soft breathing is the last thing Lance is aware of before the alarm goes off next to his head at 7. 

There's a moment of disorientation, and then a hand reaches out and hits the clock, and Lance realizes it's not his hand, and not his clock, and he's naked, and... right. 

Oh, God. He feels his skin flush with embarrassment, heart pounding, and at the same time... God. It was so good. So amazingly, heartstoppingly good. And Nick's still there, right there, fitted against him in the bed, and maybe. Maybe he doesn't need to be embarrassed. Maybe this was actually as simple, as easy as it had seemed last night. 

His hand's on Nick's hip, and he feels it when Nick's brain kicks in. The heavy relaxation of sleep gives over to--well, probably something along the same lines of what Lance was thinking a minute ago. Nick doesn't pull away, though, and after a moment Lance clears his throat. Flexes his fingers a little, then squeezes. "Um," he says. Hoping Nick will turn, respond somehow. Or at least say something. 

"Nick! Wake up!" The yell is accompanied by a loud slap on the door, and Lance jumps so hard that he falls off the bed backwards, landing on his naked ass and bumping the back of his head on the nightstand. 

Nick clutches the covers to his chest and sits up, looking over his shoulder at Lance, wide-eyed. "I'm up," he calls weakly, watching Lance rub his head. Nick's hair is a mess, sticking up every which way, stiff with sweat or... something. "I'm coming," he adds, a little louder. 

When Kevin's voice comes again, he's moving down the hall. "Breakfast in twenty, Nicky. Shake a leg." 

Nick stares at Lance a moment longer, then turns away without a word, reaching for his jeans. Lance pushes himself up to sit on the edge of his bed, grabbing for his own sweatpants, without taking his eyes off Nick. He watches the way the muscles flex under Nick's skin, the way the jeans hang well below his slim waist. _He's hot_ , Lance thinks, and then, _I had sex with a hot guy_. He blushes. Nick doesn't notice, since he seems to be making a point of not looking at Lance. He grabs his shaving kit and reaches for the doorknob. 

Lance clears his throat before Nick has a chance to unlock the door. "Um. Nick?" He can't just run out without saying _anything_ , can he? 

But Nick's not leaving. He's not turning around, either. He's staring into the small mirror mounted next to the door, and Lance can see a flush rising on the back of his neck. Nick's shaving kit hits the floor as he steps closer to the mirror, tilting his head, and then he turns on Lance with a snarl. 

"What the fuck?" he hisses. He points at his neck, and Lance gasps when he sees the bruises, red and angry on Nick's pale skin, right where... _God_ , where he was biting Nick the night before. One of them is high on his neck, right under the angle of his jaw, and not even a turtleneck will cover that, Lance thinks, horrified, and looks back up into Nick's furious face. 

Before Lance can even begin to apologize, Nick continues, his voice shaking, "You did it on purpose, dickwad. Didn't you?" 

Anger is written all over Nick, from the look on his face to the way he's standing with every muscle clenched. Lance feels it bleeding off of Nick and filling the little room; filling him, too. It's good; it lets him breathe, gives him something to do with the hot, tight feeling that started rising in his chest when Nick seemed ready to leave without a word. 

"'Course I did," he lies. "You didn't mind so much last night," he continues, with a smirk that isn't even forced, "when you were begging for it." 

Nick sways a little towards him, fists clenched, and Lance stands up between the two beds. He's never won a fistfight yet, but if Nick wants to start something he's not gonna just sit there and take it. 

They both jump when Kevin's voice comes through the door again. "NICK! If you're not in the shower in thirty seconds, I'm gonna come in there and personally kick your ass!" 

Nick hesitates, but apparently he takes Kevin's threat seriously, because a second later he scoops up his shaving kit and unlocks the door. He looks back at Lance before he leaves. "This ain't over yet, Bass," he mutters. He stomps into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. 

Lance stares after him for a moment, and then reaches blindly for his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. Shit. _Shit._ He clenches his fists on his knees. Adrenaline pumps through his body, and he tries to grasp what just happened. Nick Carter is a freak, an insane _freak_. That's what happened. 

He gets angrier as he sits there. Of course he didn't do it on purpose. What kind of jerk does Nick think he is? Maybe that's the kind of guy Nick usually sleeps with, he thinks, and that thought brings him back to the bigger issue. 

He was thinking that it... meant something. That it was more than fooling around, that Nick actually, maybe, liked him. _You stupid kid_ , he thinks viciously. _Just because he put his mouth on your dick, it doesn't mean anything._

But Nick's mouth. God. It felt so good. Now Nick'll never do that again, and Lance'll never get the chance to do it to him. And it's not like Lance gets a lot of other opportunities. 

He bites his lip as he pulls his T-shirt over his head. He's got to shower, too; he can smell himself. He holds his head high when he passes Nick in the hallway by the bathroom, and Nick clenches his jaw and walks by without saying anything. _Dickhead_ , Lance thinks, and gets in the shower quick to wash away the smell of sex and the stinging in his eyes. Nick _did_ want it last night, of that he's sure, even now. 

*** 

The next time 'Nsync and Backstreet are in the same place it's a couple weeks later, for another one of those cattle-call benefit concerts. Lance has no clue what to expect, and he thinks he'd better have learned his lesson with the pathetic joke about Nick's hair, so he just gives Nick a cold smile when he sees him and keeps his mouth shut. 

He can't help hoping, though. Thinking. Wondering. 

The performance goes well; they're getting better at this, and there are fans yelling for them and throwing stuffed animals on the stage, which is nice, even if they're still not as popular as Backstreet. There's an after-show press party thing, which means free food, although you have to eat it standing up and talking. Lance is trying to decide whether Johnny will notice if he takes a beer instead of a Coke when suddenly there's a hand on his arm and Nick's voice in his ear. "C'mon, Bass, aren't you bored yet?" For a split second Lance thinks about saying no, but there doesn't seem to be much point, and anyway, he's already following Nick out the door, down the hall. Nick doesn't seem to have violence in mind, at least. 

Not a storage closet this time, though Lance couldn't say for sure what exactly this little room would normally be used for. But there's a lock on the door, and though he kind of would like to talk about what happened last time, Nick's tongue in his mouth is a pretty damn good distraction. A few minutes later, Nick's hands are urging him down, and Lance figures he'll be damned if he can't give as good as he got. He may not know what he's doing, but Nick gasps when Lance licks him, and his fingers clench on Lance's shoulders, and when Nick starts to shoot Lance squeezes his eyes shut and swallows hard. 

He stands back up after, trying not to cough, and all it takes is a raised eyebrow before Nick's knees hit the floor, and then it's Lance's turn to lean against the door and bite his lip. It's not quite as mindblowing as the first time, but in a way it's better. He's more in control, and that's good. After he's done he grins at Nick and pulls him back up to kiss him hard, mouth still tingling from the unfamiliar taste. "We'd better get back to the party, huh?" Lance says, unlocking the door, and his voice sounds perfectly normal. 

So, yeah, Lance thinks as he heads back over to the refreshments table. This could be okay. A lot better than okay, really. He just has to make sure that Nick always wants it more than he does. Then everything should be fine. 

[end]  
  
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End file.
